The Flying U Ranch

  CHAPTER VIII. The Dot Outfit

  Before he laid him down to sleep, that night, Weary had repeated tohimself many times and fervently that wish for old J. G. Whitmore andthe stout staff upon which he was beginning more and more to lean, hisbrother-in-law, Chip Bennett. As matters stood, Weary could not evenbring himself to let then know anything about his trouble--and that thething was beginning to assume the form and shape and general malevolentattributes of Trouble, Weary was forced to admit to himself.

  Just at present an unthinking, unobserving person might pass overthis sheep outfit as a mere unsavory incident; but Weary was neitherunobserving nor unthinking--nor, for the matter of that, were therest of the Happy Family. It needed no Happy Jack, with his forebodingnature, to point out the unpleasant possibilities that night when thecommittee of two made their informal report at the supper table.

  They had ridden to Denson coulee, which was in reality a meanderingbranch of Flying U coulee itself. To reach it one rode out of FlyingU coulee and over a wide hill, and down again to Denson's. But thecreek--Flying U creek--followed the devious turnings from Denson couleedown to the Flying U. A long mile of Flying U coulee J. G. Whitmoreowned outright. Another mile he held under no other title save a fence.The creek flowed through it all--but that creek had its source somewhereup near the head of Denson coulee. J. G. Whitmore had, to his regret,been unable to claim the whole earth--or at least that portion ofit--for his own; so, when he was constrained to make a choice, hesettled himself in the wider, more fertile coulee, which he thereaftercalled the Flying U. While it is good policy to locate as near aspossible to the source of those erratic little creeks which watercertain garden spots of the northern range land, it is also well tochoose land that will grow plenty of hay. J. G. Whitmore chose the hayland, and trusted that providence would insure the water supply. Throughall these years Flying U creek had never once disappointed him. Denson,who settled in the tributary coulee, had not made any difference in thewater supply, and his stock had consisted of thirty or forty head ofcattle and horses.

  When Denson sold, however, things might be different. And, if he hadsold to a sheepman, the change might be unpleasant If he had sold toDunk Whittaker--the Flying U boys faced that possibility just as theywould face any other disaster, undaunted, but grim and unsmiling.

  It was thus that Pink and Weary rode slowly down into Denson coulee. Twomiles back they had passed the band of Dot sheep, feeding leisurelyjust without the Flying U fence, which was the southern boundary. Thebug-killer and the other were there, and they noted that the featuresof that other bore witness to the truth of Andy's story of the fight. Heregarded them with one perfectly good eye and one which was considerablyswollen, and grinned a swollen grin.

  The two had ridden ten paces past him when Pink pulled up suddenly. "I'mgoing to get off and lick that son-of-a-gun myself, just for luck," hestated dispassionately. "I'm going to lick 'em both," he revised whilehe dismounted.

  "Oh, come on, Cadwalloper," Weary dissuaded. "You'll likely have all theexcitement you need, without that."

  "Here, you hold this fool cayuse. No." He shook his head, cutting shortfurther protest. "You're the boss, and you don't want to mix in, andthat part is all right. But I ain't responsible--and I sure am goingto take a fall or two out of these geesers. They're a-w-l together toostuck on themselves to suit me." Pink did not say that he was thinkingof Andy, but nevertheless a vivid recollection of that unfortunate youngman's rope-creased wrists and swollen hands sent him toward the herderwith long, eager strides.

  Pink was not tall, and he was slight and boyish of build; also, hischerubic face, topped by tawny curls and lighted by eyes as deeply blueand as innocent as a baby's, probably deceived that herder, just asthey had deceived many another. For Pink was a good deal like a stickof dynamite wrapped in white tissue paper and tied with blue ribbon;and Weary was not at all uneasy over the outcome, as he watched Pink goclanking back, though he loved him well.

  Pink did not waste any time or words on the preliminaries. With adelightful frankness of purpose he pulled off his coat and threw iton the ground, as he came up, sent his hat after it, and arrived fistfirst.

  The herder had waited grinning, and he had shouted something to Wearyabout spanking the kid if Weary didn't make him behave. Speedily hebecame a very surprised herder, and a distressed one as well.

  "All right," Pink remarked, a little quick-breathed, when the herderdecided for the third time to get up. "A friend of mine worked yuh overa little, this morning, and I just thought I'd make a better job than hedid. Your eyes didn't match. They will, now."

  The herder mumbled maledictions after him, but Pink would not even givehim the satisfaction of resenting it.

  "I'd like to have broken a knuckle against his teeth, darn him," heobserved ruefully when he was in the saddle again. "Come on, Weary. Itwon't take but a minute to hand a punch or two to that bug-killer,and then I'll feel better. They've both got it coming--come on!" Thisbecause Weary showed a strong inclination to take the trail and keep itto his destination. "Well, I'll go alone, then. I've got to kinda squaremyself for the way I threw it into Andy; and you know blamed well,Weary, they played it low-down on him, or they'd never have got thatrope on him. And I'm going to lick that--"

  "Mamma! You sure are a rambunctious person when you feel that way,"Weary made querulous comment; but he rode over with Pink to where thebug-killer was standing with his long stick held in a somewhat menacingmanner, and once more he held Pink's horse for him.

  Pink was gone longer this time, and he came back with a cut lip and alarge lump on his forehead; the bug-killer had thrown a small rock withthe precision which comes of much practice--such as stoning disobedientdogs, and the like--and, when Pink rushed at him furiously, the herdercaught him very neatly alongside the head with his stick. These littleamenities serving merely to whet Pink's appetite for battle, he stoppedlong enough to thrash that particular herder very thoroughly and to hisown complete satisfaction.

  "Well, I guess I'm ready to go on now," he observed, dimpling ratherone-sidedly as he got back on his horse.

  "I thought maybe you'd want to whip the dogs, too," Weary told himdryly; which was the nearest he came to expressing any disapprovalof the incident. Weary was a peace-loving soul, whenever peace wascompatible with self-respect; and it would never have occurred to him topunish strange men as summarily as Pink had done.

  "I would, if the dogs were half as ornery as the men," Pink retorted."Say, they hang together like bull snakes and rattlers, don't they? Ifthey was human, they'd have helped each other out--but nothing doing! Doyou reckon a man could ride up to a couple of our bunch, and thrash oneat a time without the other fellow having something to say about it?" Heturned in the saddle and looked back. "So help me, Josephine, I've got agood mind to go back and lick them again, for not hanging together likethey ought to." But the threat was an idle one, and they went on toDenson's, Weary still with that anxious look in his eyes, and Pink quitecomplacent over his exploit.

  In Denson coulee was an unwonted atmosphere of activity; heretofore theplace had been animated chiefly by young Densons engaged in the pursuitof pleasure, but now a covered buggy, evidently just arrived, bore mutewitness to the new order of things. There were more horses about theplace, a covered wagon or two, three or four men working upon thecorral, and, lastly, there was one whom Weary recognized the moment hecaught sight of him.

  "Looks like a sheep outfit, all right," he said somberly. "And, if thatain't old Dunk himself, it's the devil, and that's next thing to him."

  Dunk, they judged, had just arrived with another man whom they did notknow: a tall man with light hair that hung lank to his collar, a thin,sharp-nosed face and a wide mouth, which stretched easily into a smile,but which was none the pleasanter for that. When he turned inquiringlytoward them they saw that he was stoop-shouldered; though not from anydeformity, but from sheer, slouching lankness. Dunk gave them a swift,sour look from under his eyebrows and went on.

 
Weary rode straight past the lank man, whom he judged to be Oleson, andovertook Dunk Whittaker himself.

  "Hello, Dunk," he said cheerfully, sliding over in the saddle so that afoot hung free of the stirrup, as men who ride much have learned to dowhen they stop for a chat, thereby resting while they may. "Back on theold stamping ground, are you?"

  "Since you see me here, I suppose I am," Dunk made churlish response.

  "Do you happen to own those Dot sheep, back there on the hill?" Wearytilted his head toward home.

  "I happen to own half of them." By then they had reached the gate andDunk passed through and started on to the house.

  "Oh, don't be in a rush--come on back and be sociable," Weary calledout, in the mildest of tones, twisting the reins around his saddle-hornso that he might roll a cigarette at ease.

  Dunk remembered, perhaps, certain things he had learned when he wasJ. G. Whitmore's partner, and had more or less to do with the chartermembers of the Happy Family. He came back and stood by the gate,ungraciously enough, to be sure; still, he came back. Weary smiled undercover of lighting his cigarette. Dunk, by that reluctant compliance,betrayed something which Weary had been rather anxious to know.

  "We've been having a little trouble with those sheep of yours," Wearyremarked between puffs. "You've got some poor excuses for humans herdingthem. They drove the bunch across our coulee just exactly three times.There ain't enough grass left in our lower field to graze a prairiedog." He glanced back to see where Pink was, saw that he was closebehind, as was the lank man, and spoke in a tone that included them all.

  "The Flying U ain't pasturing sheep, this spring," he informed thempleasantly. "But, seeing the grass is eat up, we'll let yuh pay for it.Why didn't you bring them in along the trail, anyway?"

  "I didn't bring them in. I just came down from Butte to-day. I supposethe herders brought them out where the feed was best; they did ifthey're worth their wages."

  "They happened to strike some feed that was pretty expensive. And,"he smiled down at Whittaker misleadingly, "you ought to keep an eyeon those herders, or they might let you in for another grass bill. TheFlying U has got quite a lot of range, right around here, you recollect.And we've got plenty of cattle to eat it. We don't need any help to keepthe grass down so we can ride through it."

  "Now, look here," began the lank man with that sort of persuasivenesswhich can turn instantly into bluster, "all this is pure foolishness,you know. We're here to stay. We've bought this place, and some otherland to go with it, and we expect to stay right here and make a living.It happens that we expect to make a living off of sheep. Now, we don'twant to start in by quarreling with our neighbors, and we don't want ourneighbors to start any quarrel with us. All we want--"

  "Mamma! You're taking a fine way to make us love yuh," Weary cut inironically. "I know what you want. You want the same as every other meekand lovely sheepman wants. You want it all--core, seeds and peeling.Dunk," he said with a more impatient disgust than he was in the habitof showing for his fellowmen, "this man's a stranger; but I should thinkyou'd know better than to come in here with sheep."

  "I don't know why a sheep outfit isn't exactly as good as a cow outfit,and I don't know why they haven't as much right here. You're welcome towhat land you own, but it always seemed to me that public land is opento the use of the public. Now, as Oleson says, we expect to raise sheephere, and we expect your outfit to leave us alone. As far as our sheepcrossing your coulee is concerned--I don't know that they did. But, ifthey did, and, if they did any damage, let J. G. do the talking aboutthat. I deal with the owners--not with the hired men."

  Weary, you must understand, was never a bellicose young man. But, forall that, he leaned over and gave Dunk a slap on the jaw which must havestung considerably--and the full reason for his violence lay four yearsbehind the two, when Dunk was part owner of the Flying U, and when hissneering arrogance had been very hard to endure.

  "Are you going to swallow that--from a hired man?" Weary inquired,after a minute during which nothing whatever occurred beyond the slowreddening of Dunk's face.

  "I'm not going to fight, if that's what you mean," Dunk sneered. "Idecline to bring myself down to your level. One doesn't expect anythingfrom a jackass but a bray, you know--and one doesn't feel compelled tobray because the jackass does." He smiled that supercilious smile whichWeary had hated of old, and which, he knew, was well used to coveringmuch treachery and small meannesses of various sorts.

  "As I said, if the Flying U has any claim against us, let the ownerpresent it in the usual way." Dunk drew down his black brows, lifted acorner of his lip and turned his back deliberately upon them.

  Oleson let himself through the gate, which he closed somewhat hastilybehind him. "I'm sorry you fellows seem to want to make trouble," hesaid, without looking up from the latch, which seemed somewhat out ofrepair, like the rest of the Denson property. "That's a poor wayto start in with new neighbors." He lifted his hat with what Pinkconsidered insulting politeness, and followed Dunk into the house.

  Weary waited there until they had gone in and closed the door, thenturned and rode back home again, frowning thoughtfully at the trailahead of them all the way, and making no reply to Pink's importuningsfor war.

  "I'd hate to say you've lost your nerve, Weary," Pink cried at last, insheer desperation. "But why the devil didn't you get down and thump thedaylights out of that black son-of-a-gun? I came pretty near walkinginto him myself, only I hate to butt into another fellow's scrap. But,if I'd known you were going to set there and let him walk off with thatsneer on his face--"

  "I can't fight a man that won't hit back," Weary protested. "Youcouldn't either, Cadwalloper. You'd have done just what I did; you'dhave let him go."

  "He will hit back, all right enough," Pink retorted passionately. "He'lldo it when you ain't looking, though. He--"

  "I know it," Weary sighed. "I'm kinda sorry, now, I slapped him. He'llhit back--but he won't hit me; he'll aim at the outfit. If the Old Manwas here, or Chip, I'd feel a whole lot easier in my mind."

  "They couldn't do anything you can't do," Pink assured him loyally,forgetting his petulance when he saw the careworn look in Weary'sface. "All they can do is gobble all the range around here--and I guessthere's a few of us that will have a word or two to say about that."

  "What makes me sore," Weary confided, "is knowing that Dunk isn'tthinking altogether of the dollar end of it. He's tickled to death toget a whack at the outfit. And I hate to see him get away with it; but Iguess we'll have to stand for it."

  That sentiment did not please Pink; nor, when Weary repeated it laterthat evening in the bunk-house, did it please the Happy Family. The lesspleasing it was because it was perfectly true and every man of them knewit. Beyond keeping the sheep off Flying U land, there was nothing theycould do without stepping over the line into lawlessness--and, whilethey were not in any sense a meek Happy Family, they were far morelaw-abiding than their conversation that night made them appear.